Dear Padfoot
by OedipusIsMyMiddleName
Summary: Viola Potter writes to Padfoot, an old friend that never existed. She writes about school, her younger brother Harry and a curious letter that arrived the door step addressed, in fancy green letters, to her.


This is my first Fan-fiction, and it's un-betaed.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

There's a rumour going round school that I'm a witch because I made this girl's hair turn green. It went away after a second, but it was still green and I was still looking at her.

So apparently, I'm a witch.

I hope you don't want to burn me at the stake; it would really put a damper on my day.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

There's a tree so poisonous that even the rain water dripping off it's leaves can burn your skin.

Dudley's kind of like that, if you even get close you him, he burns you.

He tried to beat up Harry again today, on the playground as if I wasn't there watching him.

I stopped him, but Harry's still got a bloody lip.

I wrote rude words on his bag as revenge and he got in trouble with the teachers.

Harry says I shouldn't have done it, that if anyone finds out uncle Vernon will shout and that huge purple vein in his neck will explode.

But I'm older then Harry as well, so I do it anyway.

He sat on the edge of his seat all though dinner, looking all pale and sweaty, I kicked him under the table and glare at him.

He got even paler, so after I've finished eating my eggs I dragged him up stairs and made him do his homework.

No one else does that, make him do his homework I mean, I bet if it were up to him, he'd never do it at all.

I agree with him of course, but since mum and dad left us alone, someone needs to take care of him.

I wish it wasn't me.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Harry says I shouldn't say it like that, but it's what happened.

They left us alone.

They went out one day and never came back.

Harry also says that I shouldn't blame them, but he's just a kid, so what does he know, hell, he wouldn't know anything if it weren't for me making sure he does his homework.

-Voila.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Okay, so I blame mum and dad for dying.

But I have every right to.

They got drunk.

They drove.

They died.

It's like every clichéd story ever told about alcohol.

If I ever told anyone, all they'd do is roll their eyes and tell me it was their own fault. So tell me, who I am not to blame them?

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

School is boring.

It's my birthday soon. I'll be turning eleven.

Harry asked me what I wanted this morning, I was making toast and he was eating cereal, so it came out all muffled but I could still tell what he was saying.

I told him I didn't want anything, but if he insisted I'd quite like a room of my own, a dog, some clothes that didn't come from a charity shop and the freedom of not having to get up at six o'clock in the morning so just so I'd be able to eat breakfast without being shouted at.

I may have sounded a bit bitter, because he went all quite after that and didn't speak to me properly for the rest of the day.

He had this thinking face on, which is worrying because it's an old look and he's only nine.

I hope I haven't broken his brain.

I hope he gets me something for my birthday, I got him something for his.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

School is still boring.

Some girls in my class have are still chanting witch every time they see me, so I wrote rude things about them in the girl's bathroom at playtime as revenge.

The janitor scrubbed had it off by lunch, but it was too late, because all the girls in this class had read it and passed it on to the boys.

None of the teachers can prove it was me but they all thought it was, and Mrs Fox, my regular teacher, kept me after lesson to tell me tell me swearing is wrong and just because a girl has started her period doesn't mean she's a slut.

I just nodded along and muttered a yes when she paused to make it look like I was listening.

After she finished, I looked her straight in the eye and told her it wasn't me, I told her I was never even in the bathroom at playtime.

When I told Harry at bed time he said that I need to stop telling lies.

I'm older, I said back, so I know more.

Yeah, he replies, the little bastard, but what you know might not be right.

I told him to shut up and rolled over.

They still chant witch though, and a teacher watches the bathrooms at playtime, so I can't write anymore rude stuff on the wall.

I need to think of something new.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

When we got changed for P.E I stole her trousers and dropped them out of a window when no one was looking.

She ran crying to the teacher of course, when she couldn't find them after lesson, a kid who sat at the back of class spotted them on the grass banking and started laughing.

Mrs Fox said that would ever did it should come forwards, that this was bullying, and bullying was taken very seriously.

I got really angry then, what about Harry, the stuff they do to him, doesn't that count as bullying? And what about me?

What about all those times that I've been cornered in the playground and made fun of? What about that time in year two when some older kids made me eat dirt until I was sick?

That was bullying, this was revenge.

Plain and simple.

I didn't come forwards, of course I didn't, she deserved it.

I can still hear there voices you know, yelling inside my head.

WITCH, WITCH, WITCH, WITCH,

Over and over, it doesn't stop, it doesn't matter how loud I made the radio, or how hard I press my hands against my ears.

I can still hear it.

WITCH, WITCH, WITCH, WITCH,

She started it, she told them to say it.

If anyone is the bully, it's her.

Not me.

Not me.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

I'm not going to think about it anymore.

It's my birthday tomorrow.

She deserved it.

It wasn't even that bad, she just had to spend the rest of the day in her P.E shorts.

That was it.

And the chanting stopped.

IT WASN'T THAT BAD!

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Harry got me a book for my birthday, "The Bridge to Terabitha".

I think he stole it from the school library, but I don't dare ask, mainly because last year I got him a nice blue watch that I nicked Marks and Spencers.

Someone spent me a letter.

I haven't opened it.

I've never gotten a letter before, how fitting it should come on my birthday.

The letters are in green ink and they even spelt my name right.

_Viola Potter,_ it looks so very fancy.

They used green ink.

Green.

I haven't shown it to Harry.

I'll show it to him when I open it.

I don't know when I'll open it.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

I'm not scared to open the letter.

It's just, as long as I don't open it, it's not bad.

As long as the wax seal stays it could be anything.

I like that thought.

_Anything._

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Another letter came for me today.

Uncle Vernon saw it before I did and went purple, before bringing it to aunt Petunia who went white as an egg shell.

I went up stairs and hid the other one.

I know I should open it.

Harry asked me if I knew what it was as uncle Vernon burned it in the fire.

I guess we'll never told, I told him and my voice was a whisper.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Another two letters came to day so I opened the first.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Guess what?

I'm a god damn witch.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

I left the letter lying on the deck and Harry asked me about it.

I didn't answer, just stared at the ceiling.

I'm a witch.

I have magic.

I hope it's a lie.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Aunt Petunia found the letter and yelled.

Uncle Vernon found out and yelled.

Why are they acting like its real?

It can't be real

Please, Padfoot, tell me it's not real.

Tell me they weren't right.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

I don't know what to do.

I've been banned from leaving our room even though it's a school week.

Harry's worried.

He's wearing his old man face and stares at me.

Today, he did his homework without me telling him to.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Once, when I was seven or eight, I looked in the bathroom mirror for what seemed like ages, trying to figurer out what made me a freak.

I wasn't too tall or too small.

I was skinny, I had black hair, and I looked like everyone else.

Now I know.

I'm a witch.

I'm the good for nothing freak that uncle Vernon told always told me I was; it just took me this long to see it.

-Viola.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

Harry thinks he's a wizard.

He said it makes sense.

I hope he's not.

I hope he's normal.

Only I know he's not, I know that he's like me, even though he didn't get a letter.

He's my brother, so of course he is.

I wish I'd never opened the letter.

-Viola.

* * *

So, Tell me what you think?


End file.
